‘She’ hid momentarily behind a wall and waited.
Two guards, each leading a guard dog, were engaged in a heated discussion as they walked by. She moved past them in sync with their conversation. They didn’t notice her at all. Dressed in tight-fitting black clothes that clung to her body, and wearing a hood that completely covered her head, she made her way silently across the garden floor.
The guard dog’s ears perked up.
“What’s the matter?”
The guard looked absentmindedly in the direction the dog was gazing. She lay flat on the ground, waiting. Fortunately, neither the dog nor the guard noticed her.
“But I like Azwin more than what Gerald teaches. She’s a woman, and she’s pretty, after all.”
The guards resumed their heated conversation and vanished into the unlit area. She hid behind the garden, then rushed to the castle where the king resided. Only the sound of her feet crunching the grass accompanied her movement. She passed by the guards twice more but wasn’t detected.
She emerged from the garden, leaned against the castle wall, and clung to it tightly. Then she walked into the darkness where the torches could not reach. Even if someone was watching, they would likely think she had disappeared into the shadows.
She walked through the sewer beneath the royal palace, where wastewater was drained to the outskirts. The ceiling was low, and the stagnant water smelled foul, but there was no choice. This was a secret passage that few within the royal palace knew.
She quickened her pace. Splish, splash. The water pooled on the floor made noise with each step. Since noise wasn’t a concern in this place, she didn’t slow her pace even when it made sounds. As she walked, she fastened gloves with four blades attached to the back of her hands. The blades moved smoothly with her fingers.
As soon as she arrived at her destination, she made a whistling sound. From inside, a similar sound answered.
It was a place where four sewer lines intersected, a space just a little larger than a room. It was directly beneath the royal kitchen. A handful of dim light was the only illumination.
“You’re late, Heder.”
A man who had been waiting for her spoke as she approached, removing her mask. Heder replied warmly to his gravelly and unpleasant voice.
“Hello, Yens?”
Yens was a man with a broken front tooth, and his cheek and lips bore deep scars. His face was hideous, and he was an assassin nearing a hundred kills. But Heder knew he loved cats and was a kind man who took care of his juniors.
“How is it? Is the royal palace penetrable?”
He asked, fiddling with an iron bead on the end of a chain.
“It didn’t look easy. Regardless of the skill of the soldiers, the security is systematic. There’s only one way in and out, the path we initially found. There’s no more.”
Heder scratched her short hair and sat beside the female sorceress, asking,
“Metzel, has the escape route been secured as planned?”
Metzel was holding a wooden staff with a curved end. The staff’s tip was the only light in the room, flickering inconsistently.
“Yes. Through the castle’s garden back to this place, then by sewer to the outside of the castle. It’s hard to track, easy to escape. But if anything goes wrong in between, there’s no other way out. We must each act independently.”
Metzel was missing her hand below one wrist. Her once-beautiful appearance was now marred by dull eyes and an unsightly scar on her cheek.
She’d been injured during a mission in Koholrun, and since then, she hadn’t applied lipstick even once. Her former, enchanting appearance, enviable even to Heder, was no longer visible.
Heder took her hand.
“You look tired, Metzel.”
“I’m fine.”
“I want to tell you in advance… uh, this mission isn’t about revenge.”
Heder spoke cautiously.
“Our mission doesn’t include killing the White Wolf who cut off your arm.”
“I know. Don’t repeat the same thing over and over.”
Metzel replied, then turned her head away.
‘I didn’t only lose a hand in Koholrun.’
Her previous cold and calm demeanor was nowhere to be found.
“But Heder, do we really need to avoid the White Wolves?”
The third man asked Heder in a dissatisfied voice. His face was thin, his nose long, and his eyebrows were raised on both sides, making him look irritable, and he indeed was an irritable man. His name was Rigen.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Rigen. You’re not unaware of how many of our agents have died, are you? Their reputation wasn’t false.”
“They weren’t Tier 1 agents.”
“Two who were close to being Tier 1 agents died.”
Kalla. Luan. Kalla may have lacked magical power compared to Metzel, but she knew well how to leave a fearsome impression on those she met. That’s why she was assigned the task of threatening Count Godimer.
Luan had learned from Yens and used the same weapon. Although he was slightly less skilled than Yens, when he acted with Kalla, he was second to none outside of Tier 1 agents. However, neither of them survived. They seemed to have failed even in threatening Count Godimer.
Metzel was the only one to survive the operation in Koholrun. She was responsible for luring the White Wolves so that Kalla and Luan could freely move within Count Godimer’s mansion. But she, too, suffered a severe injury, losing an arm. Many of her subordinate agents were also killed.
Too many comrades had died in this operation. This was unprecedented.
“Such words degrade the entire Blackfoot. Retract them.”
Heder sharply reprimanded.
“I will.”
Rigen replied with an ambiguous tone.
He had said several times that he wanted to hunt the Wolf Knights. He had even claimed that he would volunteer to go to Aranthia if such a mission didn’t come along. When the White Wolves came to Camort and a request to assassinate them was received, Rigen’s expression was unforgettable.
The guildmaster quietly called only Heder and said,
‘This will be a great challenge for us.’
It was a warning as much as a statement, and yet there was something sad in the master’s expression.
Jack, a Tier 1 agent who had departed on a mission as if he was the last bastion, had also died. The signal that the ‘Blackfoot’ attached to his eye had burned arrived through a crystal ball three days later. The Blackfoot was magical power given only to Tier 1 agents, which would spontaneously combust if they died or leaked assassination information. There was no chance Jack had leaked information and died.
The fact that Jack had persisted for three days in his mission was noteworthy. Considering the tight security inside the royal palace, it wasn’t surprising that it took three days to infiltrate. However, Jack was not a very cautious person. Especially today, after Heder personally investigated the place, she knew this was not a three-day job.
‘Jack didn’t spend three days being cautious; he spent three days unable to attempt.’
No matter how skilled the White Wolves were, assassination was a separate field. Failing every time meant there must be an expert on their side.
‘There’s an assassin within the White Wolves, superior even to Blackfoot!’
That was Heder’s conclusion. She decided to abandon the assassination request against the White Wolves.
Rigen was the first to object, saying that giving up a request because one Tier 1 agent died was a disgrace to Blackfoot.
Heder found it humiliating too but didn’t change her decision. Surprisingly, the guildmaster approved as if he had expected it. He conveyed Heder’s intention to the ‘assassination client.’ The client accepted the decision but, in return, assigned a different mission. The reason Heder had come today was not to assassinate the White Wolves but for that mission.
‘Kidnap the king!’
Somehow, this absurd task seemed easier than the previous one.
“Are we going without any change in positions?”
The fourth agent, Balak, who had been silent till now, spoke up. Rigen snapped back at him.
“Are you unhappy about being assigned as my backup?”
Balak, with short gray hair and thin eyes, glanced at Rigen, his eyes devoid of emotion. Like Heder, he wore tight-fitting black clothing, and his well-toned body, with only the necessary muscles, was refined in a way that set him apart from Yens.
Rigen had always been openly challenging to Balak. He was always discontent with being second to Balak. Heder didn’t want to put them on the same team if she could avoid it, but this time there was no choice. This mission was critical to salvage the guild’s reputation, and there was no more potent team than the two of them working together when their teamwork was in sync.
Heder had previously obtained Balak’s consent to place Rigen at the forefront. Having Rigen lead, ostensibly serving as Balak’s backup, but actually giving Balak a more critical position, was the best arrangement. However, since leaving the guild, Rigen had been continually prodding Balak.
‘Here we go again. I don’t have time to deal with such a pointless pride fight.’
Heder was concerned. Fortunately, Balak ignored such trivial squabbles. Heder spoke before Rigen could make any more useless comments.
“We proceed without changing positions. Rigen, Yens will clear the way, Metzel will cover, and I will approach the target. Balak, secure our escape route. Any questions?”
“What if we encounter the White Wolves unexpectedly?”
Rigen asked about the White Wolves again, prompting even the reticent Yens to speak up.
“Enough, Rigen!”
However, Heder accepted the question.
“If they somehow detect our infiltration, unavoidable battles might occur.”
Heder spoke, hoping that Rigen wouldn’t cause any trouble.
“Fighting must be defense-focused and only if there are two or more of them. Always avoid direct confrontation. Any other questions?”
Rigen didn’t ask anything more, and the others listened silently. Heder took a deep breath and gave the order.
“Let’s begin.”
Rigen and Yens immediately entered the sewer leading to the kitchen, and Metzel entered the sewer leading to the outskirts of the castle. As Balak was about to follow, Heder grabbed his shoulder.
“Balak, if it weren’t for the Master’s command, I would have excluded you from this operation.”
Balak’s face was entirely covered, so Heder couldn’t read his expression.
“Why? Haven’t you always wanted to carry out missions with me?”
“If Blackfoot loses you because of this mission…”
Blackfoot was once the most potent assassination guild in Lontamon, renowned for strictly maintaining clients’ secrets and always fulfilling their missions. They even had influence over the royal family at one point.
But after Master Kalsten’s last mission and his disappearance with his apprentice Temar, Blackfoot’s strength waned rapidly. With the two who could teach their assassination techniques gone, the guild couldn’t replenish its ranks, and all the agents who had shared in its past glory were now gone. Balak, virtually the chosen successor as the guild master grew old and weak, was Blackfoot’s last hope.
“I know this mission is dangerous.”
Balak gently stroked Heder’s face.
“But I won’t die. I’ll protect Blackfoot until Master Kalsten returns with Temar.”
Balak went into the sewer where Metzel had entered. Her retreating figure was always reassuring, but never had it seemed so unsettling.
‘Balak, you haven’t given up either.’
Not long after Master Kalsten had left for Aranthia, a magical signal of his black footprints being burned had been received. The guild master refused to accept that something had gone wrong and waited for even the apprentice, Temar, who had gone with him, but he too never returned.
The guild master never revealed why Kalsten had gone to Aranthia. Heder could only vaguely suspect some connection with the Wolf Knights.
Heder accepted Kalsten’s death. The Blackfoot was proof of that. However, no signal came that Temar’s Blackfoot had been taken, so she believed that Temar was still alive. In some form, even if aged and without his former skill, she hoped for his return.
She had to succeed in this endeavor to restore Blackfoot to its former glory until that day came.
Heder donned a mask and leaped onto the sewer roof.
☆ ☆ ☆
Rigen hung from the ceiling until the two soldiers had completely passed the hallway. He had no fear of them discovering his presence. Balak was the only one within Blackfoot who could find him, completely deadening his presence and hiding in the shadows.
There were fewer guards inside than expected. The guards standing on the stairs were somewhat attentive, keeping their positions, but they did not notice Rigen’s movement, sticking to the walls. If not for Heder’s annoyingly repetitive caution due to her nervous tension, Rigen would have arrived at the target in less than half the scheduled time.
A soldier standing at the stair entrance yawned. Rigen boldly passed between the wall where the soldier stood and his back, climbing the stairs.
He could have eliminated a soldier like the one he had just passed without leaving a trace. He could have disposed of the body so that it would be found only a month later, and even then, the people around wouldn’t know when it had died. If only it weren’t for Heder’s order.
‘Do I have to listen to a brat who’s barely twenty?’
The aging guild master always picked Heder as the leader for dangerous and important operations. Even Metzel, the most powerful mage within the guild and one with strong speaking rights, supported such a choice.
‘Why? Because she was favored by Kalsten and Temar when she was young? Or is she cozying up to the old man?’
Rigen had never even seen Kalsten’s face. At the time, he had not yet built his record. He only knew Temar’s name. He thought he would soon become the greatest assassin, surpassing Kalsten.
Rigen had taken the young and unseen Temar as a target. But Temar went missing along with his master, Kalsten, and Balak took his place instead.
‘It’s unfair. I’m more skilled, yet I’m overlooked as a successor just because she was friends with Temar.’
Rigen wanted to prove his skills, but the opportunity seldom appeared. From the start, Balak had taken all the high-priority missions, so he couldn’t even build his career.
‘Do you really think I’m not giving you such missions because of your skills?’
The old guild master once answered him that way when he confronted him. Rigen did not like the ambiguous smile on the old man’s face.
‘Then what? Your favoritism is rotting a talent like me.’
In that regard, the assassination request for the White Wolves was a godsend. Could there be a better timing or more splendid prey than this? Especially when they courteously came to his front yard, beyond the hard-to-reach Aranthia, he almost wanted to thank the client.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t participate in the first surprise attack on the White Wolves when they crossed the Camort border due to another assassination mission. In Koholrun, the mission fell to the mage Kalla and Luan, and they failed again. Rigen kept requesting to be deployed, but he was not accepted.
Rigen was extremely impatient. When he heard that Jack had failed the mission, Rigen cheered.
‘Yes, next is me. They can’t send Balak since they treasure him. So next is me!’
But Heder and the guild master gave up the request. It was a foolish choice. And the task they took instead was a mere kidnapping. Even if the target was a king, it was not a sweet task for Rigen.
‘Fine. Once this mission ends, I’ll go solo. The five White Wolves will die at my hand.’
Rigen had twenty daggers, coated with a venom so potent that a mere scratch would cause anyone to foam at the mouth and die after a few steps.
‘No, it would be better if we ended up killing the White Wolves without doing anything unnecessary during the mission. An apology for going beyond our task should suffice.’
The target was on the third floor. According to the information gathered so far, the King of Camort hated having many people hovering outside his bedroom while he was sleeping, so only about two guards were posted. However, judging by the number of guards stationed at the stairs and entrance during the ascent, it was expected that at least five or six guards would be present on this floor.
Heder had devised a ruse, assuming that there might be more guards than expected, and that the opponents might have an expert who was well-acquainted with Blackfoot’s strategies. Rigen knew he would be at the forefront of this deception and that the really crucial part was entrusted to Balak. But that didn’t matter. As long as enough of the fighting came his way.
Rigen moved soundlessly, glued to the wall, looking out for guards that might be in the corridor.
‘Should I kill one now that I’ve come this far?’
Yens was also waiting in the opposite corridor through a different route. Together, they could take out around five guards without letting them breathe. But surprisingly, there was only one soldier, armed with a spear, standing at the entrance to the king’s bedroom.
‘Only one?’
In the dimly lit corridor illuminated by an oil lamp, there was clearly only one man. He was leaning against the wall, holding a spear, looking as though he was dozing off. His hair, dark brown or black, was curly, and his exposed shoulders and arms were as muscular as Yens’s, bulging with strength. Wearing only some protective gear on the back of his hand and wrist, he had neither armor nor helmet on.
‘The lower floors were heavily guarded, so it’s not like they’d need no guards on the upper floors.’
Rigen waited for Yens first. There might be hidden guards on the other side.
Soon, Yens sent a signal from the end of the opposite corridor. No change in the situation. Rigen sent the same signal.
Everything was going according to plan. In a moment, Heder would approach the window of the target’s room.
‘Why just one?’
Yens questioned from afar, using his fingers.
‘Shall we go in?’
Rigen ended his hesitation.
‘I’ll take him out.’
Rigen signaled with his fingers and immediately rushed forward, throwing a dagger coated with poison.
It was one of twenty prepared in case the White Wolves followed them. It was a shame to use it, but now it was worth it. However, the dagger whizzed past the guard’s face and hit the wall. Staggering to a stop from his running stride, Rigen had not even considered that he would miss. Even if he threw it with half-closed eyes from sleep, he would not miss a moving cat within ten steps.
Yens, having been prepared for any contingency, reflexively threw the iron ball he was holding at the guard.
The guard finally uncrossed his arms, took his stance, and parried the flying iron ball with his metal spear. He barely exerted any effort, merely changing the direction of the heavy object. The massive iron ball crashed into the wall with a dull thud, breaking a chunk of stone. Yens quickly grabbed the chain and pulled the iron ball back, lowering his stance to prepare for a possible counterattack. But the spear-wielding guard did not move from his spot.
Rigen had readied two more daggers after his first attack failed but did not throw them. Yens did not throw the returned iron ball either.
The guard had dodged Rigen’s dagger with a simple tilt of his head and stopped Yens’s iron ball as heavy as an axe with one hand. He was odd enough for just that, but he didn’t even raise the alarm at the appearance of intruders. His gaze was not fixed on either side but only stared blankly straight ahead.
“Yens.”
Rigen spoke aloud. He finally realized they had met an opponent who might require the use of all twenty daggers.
“Uh.”
Yens, still not fully comprehending the situation, responded dryly.
“It’s one of the White Wolves.”
Yens was visibly startled at this. Rigen, however, seemed almost pleased.
“It’s the unavoidable situation Heder was talking about.”
Yens immediately uncoiled the chain and spun the iron ball. The spear-wielding guard asked,
“Are you Blackfoot?”
Rigen had never conversed with someone he had to kill, but he found himself inexplicably compelled to respond to an unknown aura.
“Do you know us?”
“Then the two of you must have footprints drawn in your eyes.”
“There was a guy who left too much information before he died.”
“I know more than that. Therefore, I won’t even ask you to name the client. You won’t be able to tell me anyway.”
Rigen was surprised.
‘He speaks as if he knows the black footprints?’
The man spoke in a low tone.
“Stop messing with the White Wolves. This is your last warning. If you ignore it, I will erase the name Blackfoot from this continent.”
Rigen, holding three daggers in each hand, replied:
“Are you going to bring the Wolf Knights too? That would be a welcome sight. A battle between Blackfoot and the Wolf Knights? It would be an amazing fight.”
The White Wolf, who had been staring at the wall, turned to Rigen and said:
“Knights? This is my decision, Sheyden, and it’s personal.”
His eyes were neither false nor pretentious.
“I will take down Blackfoot alone.”
At that moment, Yens released one end of the chain he had been spinning without making a sound. At the same time, Rigen also threw his daggers. Three daggers, each coated with a poison that would kill on contact, and metal beads that would shatter a skull even through a helmet, flew with terrifying speed toward the head of the White Wolf who held a spear.
No one saw what had happened between them. All they saw was the three daggers bouncing off to hit the floor, and the metal beads striking a shield and sparking as if hitting a wall. Sheyden had twirled his spear, and its end scraped the ground, creating sparks. A gentle wind flowed in the hallway, and the heavy iron spear that had been circling in his hand was fixed again at his side.
Yens pulled the metal bead in midair forcefully and swung it in a big circle above his head. It was an attack that gave the opponent no chance to catch their breath, and it was Yens’ most confident secret technique. Most highly trained knights were only used to attacks coming from the front, not flying in horizontally like this. Yens had always killed stronger opponents with this technique.
In the narrow corridor, the metal bead, drawn in the widest possible arc, flew towards Sheyden’s ear.
Sheyden struck not the bead but the chain behind it. The bead tangled around his spear, quickly winding around. As the bead tangled itself on the chain, forming a knot, Sheyden jerked the spear. Yens was pulled two steps forward.
Even after this, Yens anchored his feet to the ground and resisted, but his whole body was dragged along. The clamp he had fixed on his left wrist to prevent the chain from being snatched had become a shackle that bound him. A sharp spear tip was standing in the place he was being pulled towards.
At the moment everyone thought Yens would be impaled on the spear, it aimed elsewhere. From an unknown location, Metzel had appeared, aiming her staff at Sheyden. A ferocious sound split the air as flames flew.
Sheyden’s iron spear, even while entangled with Yens’ chain, freely changed direction and spun, blocking the flames. Flames that could engulf a person exploded, and the surrounding area was filled with flickering, dark red tongues of fire.
Rigen left the ranged attack to Metzel and aimed for Sheyden’s back across the ceiling to cut off his breath. To help Rigen, Yens pulled the chain with all his might, drawing the spear towards him. The opponent was left defenseless, and Rigen thought he had fully driven his dagger into Sheyden’s head.
But as Yens was pulling the chain with all his might, he was suddenly drawn towards Sheyden. Meanwhile, Rigen’s poisoned dagger missed its mark. Sheyden, carrying the weight of Yens, moved the spear in his hand freely and pierced Rigen’s shoulder. The spear tip went through his body and pinned him to the wall.
Yens barely regained his balance when Rigen dropped his twin daggers on the floor, hanging on the wall with his body impaled on a spear. Sheyden, with half his body enveloped in flames, vigorously shook his burning arm. Like a candle blown out by a breath, a great flame fell into the air all at once. His hair was slightly singed, and his clothes and skin were scorched, but he didn’t seem to have suffered any significant burns.
He had trapped both Rigen and Yens with a single spear, his eyes fixed on Metzel. Metzel maintained her stance, wielding her staff, but dared not perform any further magic.
“Yens, behind!”
Metzel shouted urgently. While Yens and Rigen were focused on their opponent’s spear, royal guards approached from behind Yens. Two spears stabbed into Yens’s back. Yens almost reflexively grasped the spear that had pierced through him, striking the guard who had stabbed him. The guard staggered back, but another already swung his sword, slashing Yens’s abdomen again.
“Intruders!”
The royal guards yelled.
The sound of soldiers rushing up from the lower floor was heard. Now, not only had the mission failed, but they had to worry about saving their lives. It would be difficult to do even that, impaled as they were.
‘Damn it, damn it.’
Rigen wanted to scream, but it didn’t even come out. Everything was over. It wasn’t just the failure of the mission. His pride had crumbled, seeing Sheyden’s few spear maneuvers.
‘What is this?’
Rigen let out a meaningless cry. It was a scream that only echoed inside his throat.
Bang!
The king’s bedroom door exploded. Sheyden pulled out the spear embedded in Rigen’s shoulder, stepping back and shouting at the guards.
“Everyone, get down.”
Someone reached through the smoke, grasping Rigen’s belly and pulling him.
“Lean on me, Rigen.”
It was Balak’s voice. Rigen leaned on him.
Rigen, being dragged along, watched Sheyden block Heder’s smoke attack with his spear’s tip once again. An endless sense of defeat crept up his spine.
‘What is this? What is this?!’
☆ ☆ ☆
It was not just the door that had been broken. From within the king’s bedroom, smoke poured out like a wave, quickly filling the corridor. In an instant, the white smoke obscured the view completely.
“Stay down and don’t move… ugh!”
Sheyden’s shout was interrupted as he blocked flying blades with his spear. There were four blades, each moving independently, scraping down the spear’s handle and aiming for his hand. He quickly released his grip and retreated, but the blades followed, aiming for his face. Trapped in smoke with no visibility, his opponent still accurately tracked Sheyden’s movement.
Sheyden swung his spear widely, but the opponent perfectly predicted the radius and dodged, targeting his ankles and thighs.
‘With just three more like this, the bragging about wiping out a guild alone would be an empty boast.’
The opponent rapidly closed the distance, fighting within the weapon’s radius rather than the spear’s. Instead of fleeing hastily, the assailant attacked aggressively, buying time for the accomplices to escape.
Sheyden used the proximity to his advantage, stepping forward and driving his shoulder into the opponent’s chest. The foe was sent sprawling back into the smoke, losing breath.
Sheyden didn’t pursue. The opponent remained unseen, only the sound of footsteps receding was heard.
“Don’t move.”
Sheyden yelled at the guards, who stopped immediately.
The touch on his shoulder felt like a woman. Her soft movements and agile attacks were quite familiar.
‘She’s using the same technique as Dunmel?’
It took quite a while for the smoke to clear. Aside from a large assassin killed by the guards, no one else remained in the corridor.
One guard inhaled some smoke and coughed, asking, “Are we late, sir? We’ve been waiting on the lower floor as ordered…”
“No, you’ve arrived just in time.”
Sheyden checked the bedroom, shaking off the dust from his body. The person who should have been on the bed was nowhere to be seen. The guards who followed him into the room couldn’t hide their shock.
“Your, Your Majesty, the, the kidnapping…”
The other guards were equally alarmed.
“My goodness. This, this is… Captain, quickly send a pursuit team…”
The captain of the guards raised his hand to calm everyone down.
“It was planned. I just couldn’t tell you all.”
The captain carefully approached Sheyden’s side.
“It really went according to plan, Sheyden. How were you able to read their movements so precisely?”
“It wasn’t me.”
This entire operation was planned by Dunmel. The directive to have Sheyden guard this place, and the deployment of the guards to the lower floors, were all his ideas. If the assassins had prepared their optimal escape route, then perhaps by now, Gerald would be blocking their path. Gerald was far more proficient than Sheyden in fighting against multiple opponents, so there should be no problem stopping them. If they chose a secondary plan, Azwin and Dunmel would be there to confront them.
“Clean up. Starting tomorrow, this will once again be where the king rests.”
Sheyden, on his way out of the bedroom, plucked a few burnt strands of hair from the magical flames. A unique burnt smell arose from the singed hairs. He grimaced and removed his wrist guard.
“Step away from the body.”
Sheyden instructed the guards, who were about to move the massive assassin lying in the hallway.
“A fire will start soon. Bring something like a blanket to prepare.”
His worry now shifted to Kassel.
‘You shouldn’t have personally intervened…’
☆ ☆ ☆
“I can’t go any further.”
Rigen collapsed to his knees as he was running through the grass after escaping through the sewers to the outskirts of Normant.
The group all stopped. Balak placed the person he had bundled up and been carrying on the ground. There was no movement from the person they had kidnapped and subsequently rendered unconscious.
“We’re almost to a place where we can tend to the wound…”
Heder approached to look at Rigen’s wound and stopped speaking. Blood was flowing freely from the shoulder he clutched. It wasn’t a bleed that could last much longer.
“Leave me. I’ve already started to lose my sight anyway.”
Rigen, never one to speak weakly, said through gritted teeth and sweat.
Heder hesitated for a moment.
“We need to at least stop the bleeding. If we lose Rigen after losing Yens, we can’t say the mission was successful. I don’t see any signs of pursuit either.”
Balak nodded in agreement. Metzel, apparently exhausted, simply slumped to the ground.
The real operation was over. All that remained was to hand over the kidnapped King Charles to the client waiting at the arranged place, and everything would be concluded. Resting for about five minutes seemed acceptable now.
However, when Heder spotted a shadow rising from the windswept grassland, she jumped to her feet from her crouching position. Balak and Rigen quickly rose as well. Metzel, not noticing the suddenly appearing figure, scrambled around before leaning on her staff to get up.
‘We weren’t pursued. He was waiting for us!’ Heder thought.
Rigen removed his hand from his shoulder and glared at the figure standing in the shadows.
“I’ll bet all my daggers that the person in front of us is one of the White Wolves.”
“I’ll bet my staff that he’s the one who cut off my arm.”
Metzel seemed even more eager than Rigen, and the flames from her staff shone brightly in the night.
“Heder? Decide.”
Balak also drew a short sword, standing next to the bundle holding King Charles. While not as outspoken about fighting as Rigen, he was incredibly bold when it came to battles.
Heder tightened her clawed gloves as she responded.
“Our opponent is one of the White Wolves. Let’s forget the idea that we have greater numbers.”
The four blades on the back of his hand reflected the moonlight and magical flames, glinting sharply. A chilling wind swept across the plains.
The man who appeared in the meadow, gaunt and without holding any weapons, just letting his arms hang lightly, looked somewhat similar to Balak. To Heder, who had always imagined a knight clad in heavy armor, mounted on a horse and wielding a lance, this was an utterly awkward sight.
“Rigen, can you bear it?” Balak asked sharply.
“Do I look like a fool who would die without even using the daggers I brought?”
“Seems you’re cocky enough. What about you, Metzel?”
“It’s not your place to ask that of a wizard, Balak,” Metzel replied, her staff aimed at the enemy, unmoving.
“If four of us can’t defeat one, it’s better to end Blackfoot today. Do not hesitate, Heder. I will take responsibility.”
Heder still couldn’t help but hesitate. Then, Balak acted.
“Rigen, throw all your daggers at my signal.”
“All of them?”
“If we take too long, it will be disadvantageous. If one person is guarding here, others will appear.”
Balak prepared, pointing the tip of his sword forward. Rigen reluctantly slipped four daggers onto each of his fingers.
“Balak, just one question.”
“Make it quick.”
“These daggers have been coated with Dalrunoi poison. If I had fought you with these daggers, could I have won?”
“No.”
Balak replied without a second thought.
“Either way, it wouldn’t matter to me…”
Rigen gave a forlorn laugh and then, with a swing of both hands, hurled the daggers towards the newly arrived White Wolf. Eight daggers twirled through the darkness that obscured even the enemy’s face. At the same time, Balak charged.
The White Wolf effortlessly leaped into the air, dodging the daggers. Balak had already anticipated this and jumped to meet him mid-air. The two short swords the White Wolf held clashed with Balak’s not-so-long blade several times in mid-air. As soon as they landed, they ran side by side across the meadow. Under the moonlight, the only evidence of their movements was the rustling of the trampled grass.
Heder, who had been watching their movements, crouched and darted between the two. The White Wolf deftly blocked four clawed fingernails flying from behind, then, placing a hand on the ground, kicked both of them away with his feet. Heder ducked to evade, and Balak blocked with his arm, but both had to retreat to avoid the next attack.
In that moment, Rigen threw more daggers, and the White Wolf leaped into the air using only the strength of the hand pressed to the ground. The daggers all stuck into the ground. Metzel, who had been watching from the sidelines, swung her staff, sending out a fireball. Yet, once again, the wolf twisted in mid-air to avoid it. The fireball lost its momentum and exploded on the ground, setting the dry meadow ablaze.
As soon as the White Wolf landed, he quickly regained his balance and faced Balak. Heder also joined the attack. In the darkness, a rapid metallic clanging filled the air.
Although Heder and Balak were leading the attack, they quickly grew weary. The White Wolf’s dual blades acted like a shield encircling his body, blocking their desperate attacks. Suddenly, the blades coiled like snakes and grazed Heder’s face and neck.
Had Balak not intervened, the attack would have severed an artery or torn a cheek. Heder, shocked by the close call, fell backward. It was only after retreating a few steps that she realized the skill of her opponent.
‘No. Even if Balak hadn’t blocked it, it wouldn’t have been fatal.’
Heder was astonished.
‘He’s not fighting with full strength. Why?’
Heder found herself unable to charge in easily.
“Move away!”
Rigen, holding three daggers in his right hand, pushed Heder aside, ready to throw. But he halted at a woman’s voice from behind.
“If you throw that, you’ll die.”
Rigen turned around, startled. A woman stood five paces away, a shield in her hand. In the light of the burning meadow, a cold determination was visible on her face.
“Again? How much more must you try to wear me down…”
Rigen’s voice was filled with frustration. Without giving Heder a chance to interrupt, Rigen threw his dagger. But where the dagger had landed, the woman with the shield was already gone. She sprinted across the meadow, thrusting her sword under Rigen’s chin.
She pulled out her sword, pushing Rigen’s body away. Before he could even fall, she was already extending her shielded hand toward her next target, Heder. Heder froze for a moment, her breath catching at the sight of her advancing shield.
“Do you want to try?” she asked, but Heder couldn’t respond.
Meanwhile, Balak was facing the White Wolf alone. Metzel continued to aim her staff, but their movements were too fast to use magic. The spreading flames around them brightened the surroundings.
The woman commanded, “You’re the leader, right? Stop the fight. I didn’t come here to kill you all. I have questions to ask.”
“Shut up. We have nothing to say to you.”
“Proud to preserve your honor, even as assassins, huh?”
With a scornful tone, the woman pressed Rigen’s bloodstained sword to Heder’s chin.
“Don’t you all have homes to return to, food you want to eat, people you want to love? Maybe you don’t, since you’ve killed so many innocent people.”
Heder inhaled sharply. It wasn’t exactly an overwhelming command, but it was hard to refuse. It wasn’t the sword at her throat that made it so.
Balak was gradually retreating, evidently struggling. Balak’s movement was as good as ever, using the right technique at the right time, his body appearing light. But the opponent was faster, and all of Balak’s techniques were being preemptively blocked. Heder realized he hadn’t been able to use his skills properly either.
The opponent seemed to know all their techniques.
“Balak, stop,” Heder said in a small voice, fearful that tears might mix with the loud words.
“Stop.”
Heder realized it.
The Blackfoot was finished today.
“Balak, stop!”
Heder screamed, and at the same time, flames burst from Rigen’s corpse.
Not knowing what had prompted them, both Metzel and Balak turned their heads toward Heder. Seeing their captured comrade, both of them immediately withdrew. Even the White Wolf that had been attacking Balak ceased its attack when its opponent withdrew without resistance.
“I’m sorry, Balak,” Heder said stiffly, and Balak replied in a flat voice.
“Tell her that we are not cowards who stop because our comrade has been taken hostage.”
The woman holding Heder laughed mockingly.
“Who said anything about taking hostages? I just splashed some cold water on your heads. We never intended to fight from the beginning, and I didn’t want to kill this guy.”
She gestured at Rigen’s dead body with her chin and let go of Heder, even sheathing her sword.
‘I can counterattack. I still have my knife, and she’s unarmed. A moment’s carelessness will be enough! I can make her arrogant face and belly meet my blade.’
Heder couldn’t carry out that thought. She didn’t dare, seeing her unfathomable composure. Instead, Heder attempted to talk.
“What are you going to do now? Asking won’t get you any answers.”
“I know, I know. You’ve got the Blackfoot in your eyes and can’t say anything. But if the person you kidnapped is hurt, I’ll kill you from now on. Just wait and see.”
She opened the bundle that Balak had set down. The young man inside was still unconscious.
“Oh my, what have you done to this person? Surely you didn’t do anything bad to him?”
Heder found her forced smile now more terrifying than when she was swinging her sword and making threats.
“We put him to sleep a little. Nothing more. If it was a kill mission, we would have handled it in the bedroom.”
Heder inadvertently told her the truth.
“I hope that’s true. Look out if he’s even slightly hurt. When will he wake?”
“In about 10 minutes.”
“Then let’s talk again in about 10 minutes.”
Metzel extended her staff, charged with red energy, and said to her…
“She talks as though she could kill us at any moment.”
“Have you ever seen me before, in Koholrun?”
The woman laid the man she had taken from her bundle on the grass and stood up to tether her horse.
“Clear that away. I might just kill you first and then begin to talk with the remaining two.”
Metzel’s face turned red.
‘I mustn’t lose my reason in vengeance.’
Heder reached out a hand. Seeing Heder’s gesture, Metzel lowered her staff.
“Isn’t your scheme already a failure since you’ve come this far? Choose to do as I say and return alive.”
Heder asked the woman coldly.
“How did you know about our plan?”
“There’s someone on our side who’s seen through your strategies.”
“The entire plan?”
“We’ve prepared for even more than that. By now, the one who is at the first of your expected escape routes is probably waiting for you, nose running with cold.”
“Which tower?”
“The third tower. The rooftop.”
The woman pinpointed the location exactly. Heder’s mouth fell open. It had been the intended detour if the sewer escape failed.
It had been somewhat expected, but hearing it directly from the adversary was a considerable shock. She then turned her eyes to the White Wolves who had managed to preemptively block all the techniques she and Balak had planned. The woman had said, ‘such a person is on our side,’ not ‘I’ve seen through your strategies.’ Someone else, not her.
The woman gestured, calling over the White Wolf. It wasn’t a simple gesture but sign language.
‘Come here. There seems to be no concern of escape. Let’s prioritize protecting the captain.’
Neither Metzel nor Balak could naturally decipher the content of that sign language. However, Heder in the middle recognized it.
‘How do they know that sign language? That was… Temar’s sign language?’
The man who saw the woman’s sign language signaled ‘understood’ and slowly walked across the grass field, passing beside Heder, toward the brightened area where the surrounding grass was burning. Seeing his face, Heder was utterly astonished.
Heder ran and blocked the man’s path. The two White Wolves, thinking her sudden movement was an attack, drew their weapons. Simultaneously, Balak and Metzel, thinking Heder was about to spring a surprise attack, also drew their weapons. But Heder stood with arms wide open, utterly defenseless.
All four of them paused, watching only Heder’s gestures. Heder was blinking back tears, unable to speak. They all observed her slowly moving hand very closely.
Heder made a sign.
‘Do you recognize me?’
The two White Wolves were quite baffled at her sign.
‘Who are you?’
He asked back in sign language.
‘I am Heder.’
Heder threw off her mask, revealing her bare face. Upon seeing her face and sign language, the White Wolf froze and stepped back several paces. His stance was so slack that a surprise attack would have taken him down instantly.
Balak was equally astonished.
“Heder! What’s happening?”
A tear slid down Heder’s cheek. With a trembling voice, she called the White Wolf’s name and flung herself into his arms.
“Temar.”
☆ ☆ ☆
Kassel regained consciousness. His head ached as if it would split open.
‘Where am I?’
Before he lost consciousness, he had been on the king’s bed, but when he awoke, he found himself on a grassy field. Spotting Azwin and Dunmel in the darkness, he felt relieved. It seemed things had gone according to plan. In the worst-case scenario, he could have awakened to find strangers discussing what to do with his life.
Everyone had opposed Kassel taking on the role of the king’s double. But Kassel trusted Dunmel’s word and insisted that the task was utterly safe. If things went wrong and the kidnappers discovered the fake king, the person playing the double would be killed. However, if the kidnapped person was not the king but a captain of the White Wolves, at least a conversation could be attempted. Kassel believed that negotiation was possible in such a manner.
But Sheyden worried about the exact opposite situation. They might consider capturing the White Wolves they hadn’t been able to kill so far as a stroke of luck.
‘Still, it looks good that I step forward.’
Kassel secretly said to Sheyden alone.
“It doesn’t look good; it seems reckless.”
Sheyden did not agree until the end but also did not oppose the plan.
Kassel, rubbing his throbbing head, attempted to stand up from his seat but faltered and collapsed. He was still not steady. He sat and briefly surveyed the situation.
‘What a strange spectacle. Have I not fully come to my senses?’
He had never expected an assassin, who was clearly identified, to collapse into Dunmel’s arms.
Azwin stood still with her arms folded. Everyone’s attention was stolen by the scene, and they hadn’t even noticed that Kassel had regained consciousness.
The assassin finally fell from Dunmel’s embrace. On closer inspection, it was a woman.
“You said your name is Heder, right? What did you say to Dunmel?” Azwin asked.
“Temar.”
Heder responded in a toneless voice, then turned her eyes back to Dunmel.
‘Temar, everyone has been waiting for you to return alive.’
Dunmel didn’t reply. She spoke in sign language. Kassel found her signing too fast to understand.
‘It’s natural that you don’t understand. I was only ten when you taught me. But it is me, the child you raised as your daughter.’
‘I know. I was just too surprised.’
Dunmel finally spoke with sign language. Heder grinned at her brief response. It was too bright and innocent a smile for an assassin.
‘Is the master alive?’
‘He’s gone.’
Heder took a deep breath. Her hands signing the words trembled.
‘Who killed him?’
‘Master Quain.’
Heder’s eyes changed.
‘I heard the White Wolves are disciples of Master Quain.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, you serve the one who killed your master as your master now?’
Dunmel didn’t answer. Another assassin dressed similarly spoke from behind.
“Heder, speak so I can understand. Is that person Temar?”
“Yes, Balak. And Temar says, Master Kalsten has passed.”
“I know that… but who killed him?”
“Quain.”
“Nonsense!”
Heder’s shoulders twitched at Balak’s voice.
He spoke loudly enough to send the grasses scurrying away.
“Temar, it has been nearly ten years since you and Master Kalsten left for Aranthia, but everyone was waiting for you to return alive. But now Kalsten is dead, and you have become the disciple of our enemy?”
Though it was dark, Dunmel would certainly be reading the shape of his opponent’s mouth well, but he did not reply. An unexpected verbal duel unfolded, and Kassel simply watched.
“Quiet, Balak.”
Heder stopped Balak and spoke again.
“Regardless of what you look like now, please come back, Temar. And become our master.”
“Do you know what you’re saying?”
Balak growled.
“I know. The Blackfoot heir has not returned, right? It was all decided after it was confirmed that Kalsten had passed. The only one to follow is Temar.”
“A traitor cannot stand above us.”
“Watch your language, Balak. Temar is your senior and will be your master.”
Dunmel remained silent. No, he wasn’t even looking at their mouths now. Dunmel seemed not to want to watch their conversation.
“So if I kill that person right now, I, the next successor, will become the master of Blackfoot.”
The situation had become fraught with tension, and every eye was fixed on the dynamic between these warriors, their allegiances tested, their loyalty questioned, and their honor at stake.
Balak drew his sword again, and immediately Azwin pulled hers. The woman, who had been so quiet that no one had noticed her presence, hastily lifted her staff. Heder also raised the hooked, claw-like blade she had been holding in her hand. Only Dunmel did not react, even as Heder raised her weapon right before him!
It seemed like three corpses would be left behind if anyone started the attack.
“Everyone stop!”
Kassel quickly got up and shouted, and then he collapsed again. His head was still dizzy, and it was hard for him to stand, so he spoke from his sitting position.
“If we fight now, it will lead to irreparable consequences. I have no interest in interfering with Blackfoot’s affairs, but I think it would be good to ask for your opinion.”
“Our opinion?”
“Their opinion?”
Azwin and Heder said simultaneously, then glared at each other.
“Yes, your opinion! Dunmel hasn’t said anything yet.”
Naturally, everyone’s gaze shifted from Kassel to Dunmel. Dunmel hesitated for a moment, then spoke to Heder in sign language.
‘It is not as simple as explaining everything here, Heder. Since I have great responsibility for Kalsten’s death, I cannot return to Blackfoot.’
He covered his eyes with his fingers. They were clean eyes, devoid of any magical spell.
‘And now, I am not an assassin of Blackfoot, but a White Wolf. I am sorry.’
Dunmel’s hands fell limp as he finished his signs.
Heder did not insist on her own wishes anymore.
“What did that guy… what did Temar say?”
The sorceress inquired.
“He has refused to return, Metzel.”
Heder spoke in a somber tone.
“Well, Dunmel’s problem is over. Let’s deal with this issue later.”
Kassel coughed and got up again. He barely managed to stand, but his upper body was still shaky.
‘Always looking foolish at crucial moments.’
Kassel managed to speak.
“I have nothing to say about Dunmel’s issue, but Blackfoot’s assassins, I do have something to say about the current situation.”
Kassel did not use a commanding tone. From his brief experience, he had learned that speaking in a calm and courteous manner was more persuasive, especially when the White Wolves were present as guards.
Apparently, the assassins had not yet surrendered. The fight had only paused momentarily because of Dunmel’s issue. At any moment, they might kill Captain Wolf or even embrace a glorious death right there. Though he wanted to stand beside Azwin for protection, his legs still would not move.
“You tried to kill us near the Kingdom of Camort’s border, right? Am I correct?”
Heder obediently answered.
“Yes.”
“In Koholrun too?”
Heder nodded.
“Obviously, you can’t tell who the client was because of that Blackfoot magic?”
Heder nodded again, then said,
“And in fact, we did not even hear who it was.”
“Then who knows?”
“The guild master of Blackfoot.”
“Can we meet him?”
“No. But if Temar returns, you can ask him directly. Whether he will answer, I do not know.”
“Isn’t there a place where the client is, where you were supposed to take His Majesty after kidnapping me?”
“Do you think the client would appear personally? If you join us now, the other party will know first. And if rumors spread that Blackfoot has betrayed the client…”
“I understand. Let me ask something else.”
It was something he had already anticipated to be hard to figure out.
“What do you know about the Black Knight?”
“The Black Knight? You are not asking about the Black Lion Knights, are you?”
Heder furrowed his brow and questioned.
Kassel thought he was right.
“You know?”
“I do.”
Heder asked bitterly.
“You don’t think of us as the same kind as ‘those things,’ do you?”
“Both sides tried to kill us at the same time, so I can’t help but think that way.”
Although he didn’t actually think that way, Kassel simply teased.
Heder said,
“They appeared suddenly in various parts of Camort, like phantoms, then disappeared just as quickly! We discovered their existence and investigated, but we could not identify them.”
“So, there’s no connection?”
“No connection at all, and we know nothing about them. Where they’re from, what their purpose is… Other than the fact that their armor resembles that of the Excelon Knights.”
“Excelon?” Kassel asked, taken aback.
“Didn’t you say you made contact earlier? You must have recognized them then?” Heder asked, seemingly finding it odd.
Kassel looked over at Azwin, who shook her head.
Kassel had once dreamed of becoming a knight after seeing the Excelon Knights. It was impossible for him not to recognize them.
“It seems my observation skills were lacking. Understood. I have one last question, Heder.” Kassel asked, glancing at Normant’s castle.
“Will you attack us again?”
“As long as you are identified as a member of the White Wolves, there will be no more attacks.”
“Good. Then we will release all of you. Dunmel, watch our back. Azwin, support me, please.”
Kassel took a step towards Azwin and stumbled, but she quickly steadied him and glared menacingly at the assassins.
“If anything happens to our captain later on, the promise to let you go is off,” Azwin said, her eyes narrowed.
“Still reeling from just that level of anesthetic? Perhaps your captain is weak?” came the retort.
“You’re trying to die!” Kassel grabbed Azwin’s arm.
“It’s fine. Just help me balance a bit. That’s all it is.”
Kassel, clinging to Azwin’s arm, headed back to the castle.
“Strange… captain,” Metzel said, looking at the back of Kassel’s head and then speaking to Dunmel.
“You’re the famous Temar. The one who took my arm is the successor leading our guild, and I was waiting for that person to return…”
Dunmel spoke to Metzel through sign language, and Heder interpreted.
“I will not apologize.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to.”
Metzel turned away, not wanting to talk further.
Heder approached Dunmel again and spoke in sign language.
‘Is it because of such a captain that you’re in the Wolf Knights?’
Dunmel smiled in reply.
‘Look at his age. He’s only recently become a captain. It’s not because of Kassel that I stayed.’
‘He let go of those who tried to assassinate the White Wolves and kidnap this country’s king so easily. If it were me, I would have extracted the information I wanted by using their release as bait…’
‘Kassel thinks in a totally different direction than us. He gave up trying to find out the client from the assassins the moment he heard revealing the client’s secret means death. That doesn’t mean he let you guys go.’
‘He didn’t let us go?’
‘Aren’t I still holding you?’
Dunmel glanced at Balak and continued signing.
‘Kassel probably made this decision seeing how you treated me. If it’s information that you won’t even tell me, he doesn’t need to pry.’
‘Isn’t that quite the crafty approach? He didn’t seem like such a clever man.’
‘He’s like that. And I don’t want to forcibly pry anything from you either.’
Dunmel then asked another question.
‘So who’s the master of the guild now?’
“Gerard still holds the position,” Heder said aloud.
‘He’s still keeping the Master’s seat warm. And you too.’
Dunmel smiled.
“I just…” Heder began, but as she turned away, Dunmel grabbed her chin and turned it back.
‘Didn’t I tell you always to show your mouth when talking to me?’
Heder lightly rubbed her cheek against Dunmel’s hand and signed.
‘I wanted to see you, Temar. And I wanted to show you how much I’ve grown.’
Dunmel gently stroked her short hair, as a father would to his daughter. For a moment, they only looked into each other’s eyes, without speaking or signing, exchanging countless unspoken stories.
Watching them from behind, Balak’s fists were clenched tightly.
“I’ll give you this ring. If you change your mind and decide to return, the ring will guide your way.”
Heder took off the ring he was wearing, embraced him once, and then let go.
“And please tell Captain Kassel. The Red Rose Count will raid Normant.”
‘How did you find out? Was the Count the one who ordered the kidnapping of the king?’
“I don’t know that much. We only found out because we needed to know the Count’s raid schedule in order to safely complete our mission.”
‘When is the date of departure?’
Dunmel quickly asked.
“It’s tomorrow morning.”
‘I understand. Thank you.’
Heder bowed respectfully and slowly retreated, but Balak did not move, as if rooted to the spot.
“Don’t come back, Temar.”
Balak said, and sharply raised his sword, like a blade.
“There’s no place for you in Blackfoot.”
Dunmel had something to say to Balak but couldn’t because Balak wouldn’t understand the sign language. Balak backed away and then quickly followed after Heder.
Dunmel stood in the grass for a moment, eyes closed against the blowing wind. Heder’s energy faded until it disappeared. Azwin and Kassel’s energies remained in place. The steps to return to them were anything but light.
“Did you send her off well?”
Kassel, still unsteady, was holding Azwin’s shoulder. Dunmel nodded.
“If such a big kid follows you like a daughter, how old are you?”
Azwin, as usual, asked something strange first.
Dunmel shook his head and spoke in sign language.
‘I don’t know. Thirty-three? Thirty-two? Heder is about twenty now.’
“Hey, if your face is thirty-three, what would make Gerald, who is not even thirty?”
Azwin was delighted to have found another amusing tease. Meanwhile, Kassel asked:
“I shouldn’t know about the two of you either, right?”
Kassel looked curious yet apologetic, feeling as if hiding something was committing a wrong.
‘There is something we must talk about now, though I’ll have to say it once more where everyone is.’
Dunmel signed slowly for Kassel.
‘When I was still known as Temar, Blackfoot’s Master Kalsten gave me a mission. I don’t know who the client was. Master Kalsten seemed to know but didn’t tell me. Perhaps he didn’t want me to hear the client’s name, so I wouldn’t be bound by magic. But I know the contents of the mission. Of course, I participated in it.’
Even Azwin, who was pretending not to care, was shocked by Dunmel’s ensuing signs.
‘Our mission at that time was to assassinate Queen Sanadiel of Aranthia.’
Shocked, Azwin threw a random comment at Kassel to recover.
“But you were thinking about the Black Knight, huh? I forgot until you asked Heder.”
Kassel’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You weren’t thinking about it? I’ve been thinking about it since our first contact… Oh, by the way, was their armor was really shaped like the Excelon Knights?”
“I didn’t find any connection at the time, but now that I think about it, it seems so. But do you still have that arm of the Black Knight that Gerald cut off?”
“Ah, yes. It’s in a drawer.”
“You didn’t throw it away?”
Azwin scolded.
“It just seemed too precious to throw away… like an important piece of evidence or something…”
Kassel stammered. Meanwhile, having recovered from the shock, Azwin spoke again to Dunmel.
“Dunmel tried to kill Queen Sanadiel, huh. Well, as I’ve said several times, I don’t care about your past. But still.”
Azwin grinned wickedly, hand to her mouth, chuckling.
“Gerald and Sheyden won’t think so. Because they really like Her Majesty Sanadiel. I’ll tell them both.”
‘I’ll tell them myself…’
Dunmel attempted to communicate through hand signs, but a mischievous Azwin thwarted him by reaching out and obstructing his hands. It was a crueler prank than covering someone’s mouth to silence them.
“Who’s the fastest at taming a horse?” Kassel suddenly asked.
Azwin stopped her prank and answered, “Dunmel and Sheyden are probably about the same. But being quick with horses doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a good rider, does it? Why ask?”
“Shouldn’t we bring Loyal now? Count Johnstein is already here, so there’s no need for him to stay there, don’t you think?”
“Yeah! That’s right, that guy. Come to think of it, why hasn’t he come? At least he could have sent some news.”
Azwin grumbled discontentedly.
Dunmel, finally free to use his hands, again spoke through hand signs.
‘It’s not time for anyone to go and come back yet.’
“Why’s that?”
Dunmel informed them of the information he had received from Heder.
‘Red Rose Count will attack Normant tomorrow.’
–TL Notes–
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